Sanguine'ar
by Farajah
Summary: A thousand year-old legacy falls to a young Sith, a legend and a promise, this is his story. This is the story of the Sith Pureblood who would come to be known as Sanguine'ar, the Jedi Terror. He is Bloodsworn, dedicated to the defense and advancement of the Sith Empire. This is the story of his life, his love, his pain, and his choice; from birth, to his mysterious disappearance.
1. His First Memory

_3,673 years before the Battle of Yavin,_

_Twenty years into the Great Galactic War_

_On an icy world no one cares to remember._

"Run, Kretok!" Was all the young Sith Pureblood heard. He dare not look back, lest the monsters in white catch up to him. Little Kretok Nameisis didn't even know what was going on. One minute, he was sleeping in his warm and cozy bed in the base, then the shouting started. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the adults sounded angry, and he felt scared.

"There are too many!" He'd heard one of the adults shout. "Fall back!" The man had yelled, then the loud noises came. Kretok had never heard an explosion before, but he'd never forget the sound now. Right after the explosion, the banging and shooting started. He heard people scream, felt pain, felt fear, and tried not to cry. His mother eventually came for him, but she looked hurt. There was red liquid dropping from her side, and she wouldn't let go of the area.

"Kretok, sweetie, mummy needs you to come with her." His mother was sweating, but she smiled at him.

"Mummy, what's going on?" Young Kretok asked.

"It's just a drill, Kre." His mother said, her smile growing. "Now, please come with mummy." She held out her hand, and he took it. They ran fast, faster than Kretok had ever run. He tripped several times as they ran towards one of the base's exits, but his mother didn't notice. Whenever he couldn't keep up, she drug him until his short legs caught up.

"Mummy, I'm tired!" Kretok cried.

"Mummy is too, baby, but we have to go a little farther. Can you do that for me? Just a little further?" His mother asked, looking down at him with a smile.

"Okay mummy!" He shouted, eager to please her. The wall in front of them exploded in, throwing debris and smoke everywhere. Kretok's mother threw herself in front of him to shield him from the blast.

"Blast them!" A man said. Red blaster bolts flew past them, nearly hitting his mother.

"This way." She said, pulling him back down the way they came. They stopped in front of a door that had always been locked, and never once opened, since Kretok and his mother arrived on the base. She quickly entered a code into the panel at the side. The door started to slide open, but stopped. There was a loud, angry, sound coming from it, and bright lights danced out from the tracks. "Damn it!" His mother swore.

She used one hand to grab hold of the door and used the other to grab hold of the wall. She grunted and groaned as she tried to push the door open. It was stubborn, at first, and that made his mother angry. Her eyes started to glow, something that only happened when she got really mad, and she screamed. The door continued to resist her until Kretok heard a crack, then the door flew open.

"Kretok, go!" She yelled. Kretok jumped back at her tone and scurried through the door. "Damn! It won't close." She yelled again.

"There she is!" Another man yelled. Kretok heard shooting, and his mother shouted in pain. There was a smoking black spot on her shoulder, but she ignored it.

"Come on, Kretok, let's go." His mother said, trying to sound calm and composed.

"Mummy, are you ok?" He asked.

"Mummy's fine, Kretok. We have to go now." She ushered him down the dark hallway. Cold winds blew through the narrow corridor, chilling Kretok to the bone.

"Where are we going?"

"Some place safe. Now hush, we don't want the other team to find us, do we?" His mother asked. Kretok shook his head. The two of them ran further and further into the darkness, even going so far that Kretok couldn't see the light anymore. "Just a little farther." His mother whispered. "Just a little farther." They turned a corner and Kretok was finally able to see light again. The corridor's metal walls ended in thick sheets of ice and a massive cave.

Several other tunnels spilled out into the cavern, but Kretok had no idea where they went.

"Kretok, mummy needs you to do something for her," his mother said, kneeling down.

"What?" He asked.

"I need you to hide. Like hide and seek." She said with a smile.

"Okay!" Kre shouted excitedly. Without waiting for any further direction, he ran down one of the other tunnels. He stopped when he almost ran into a massive figure in white armor.

"Well, well, looks like I found the runt." The man said. He jumped at Kre, trying to grab hold. The young Pureblood was quicker and more agile then the man thought, and was able to slip away.

"Mummy!" Kre cried. "The man tried to grab me!"

"Come back here you little twerp." The man growled. Kretok felt two sharp pains in his legs, like getting shots, the screamed in pain. The shots gave him the worst shock of his life, burning and zapping his small form.

"Mummy!" Kre shouted, crying. "The man hurt me!" Kretok fell to the ground as the feeling in his legs died. Another shock hit him, this one even more painful than the last.

"I always liked my Sith well done." The man said.

"Get away from my son!" His mother roared. Her red and black form was nothing more than a blur as she leapt over Kretok, crashing into the monster in white armor. Her silver lightsabers cut glittering arcs through the air as the hacked and slashed. In the blink of an eye, the monster in white had been cut to pieces.

"I heard something! Over here!" More people said. Their accents were like the monster in white. Footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

"Run Kretok!" His mother yelled. Kretok was already up on his feet, running out of the tunnel. He didn't slow down, he didn't stop, not even to see if his mother was with him. He didn't want the monsters in white to catch up and hurt him again. He heard a scream that sounded like it came from his mother. He could see the end of the tunnel now, so very close. Another monster in white stepped in front of the entrance. Frightened, Kretok lashed out through the Force.

Though he was young and inexperienced, people had always said the Force was strong with him. Sticking his arms out, Kretok blasted the monster in white, knocking him back a few steps. He was able to run past the monster, but there were more behind him. Kretok stopped and stared, unsure what to do. A strong hand grabbed him, and spun him around. The monster in white stared down at him, angry and mean looking.

With the helmet off, Kretok could see the monster's blue skin and long head tails. A twi'lek, he had heard the species called. In the Empire, they were largely slaves, with only a few of them ever breaking out of bondage. The twi'lek's arm was a blur of motion, followed by the worst pain Kretok had ever felt. The shots and shock he'd gotten earlier didn't even compare to sharp pain in his stomach he felt now.

Kretok looked down, staring as his black blood ran out over the monster's glove and the hilt of a weapon of some kind. The monster pulled his knife out, which hurt almost as much as getting stabbed. The blade was long, at least as long as Kretok's forearm. The monster threw Kretok onto the icy ground, leaving him to bleed out. He disappeared into the tunnel, emerging a few moments later with another monster dragging his mother.

A human monster walked up to them, lifting his mother's face.

"I'll say this for the Empire; they know how to breed fine women." The human monster said. "I'd say our mission was successful, boys, don't you?" The other monsters shouted. The human monster punched his mother in the stomach, hard. "We're going to make you pay for all the Republic heroes you've killed, Sanguine'ar."

"I haven't killed that many." His mother said with a weak smile. "Most of the 'Pubs I've killed died screaming and begging for their mothers. At least my son has an excuse." The human monster growled, and slapped her. "Oh, did that hit a nerve?" His mother laughed, coughing up blood.

"Captain," another man said. "Our mission was to capture or kill Sanguine'ar. We've done that. It's time for us to leave." This man wore simple brown robes, and carried a lightsaber. There were horns on his otherwise bald head, marking him as a zabrak; and the first Jedi Kre had ever seen.

"With all due respect, Jedi, I'm in command here." The human monster said. "And our mission was to capture or kill Sanguine'ar. It didn't say anything about the specifics. What do you say boys, should we show the Sith a good time?" The other monsters cheered.

"I can't let you do that, captain." The Jedi said, raising his lightsaber.

"Ah, come on Jedi; how many of your own order has this slut killed? Don't you want a little pay back?"

"That isn't the Jedi way." The zabrak said.

"Then I think it's time for you to leave." The human monster said. "Now." The Jedi hesitated, but finally holstered his lightsaber and walked away.

"I know I'm going to regret this." The zabrak whispered under his breath. Before leaving the cave, he cast one look back, catching Kretok's stare. The Jedi shook his head, and exited the cave.

"Now then, I think the Sith is wearing too much clothing." The human monster said. He stepped between Kretok and his mother, blocking Kretok's view. There was a ripping sound followed by a short scream. Kretok heard something being forced down into the icy ground, but he couldn't see what. "You bite me, bitch, and I'll flay your son alive."

"Do whatever you want, just don't hurt my son." His mother begged. Kre wanted to cry, to tell her he was already her, to say that the monsters in white had made him bleed. As it was, he could barely breathe and whimper.

"Make it good." The captain monster in white growled. He threw his head back and moaned, though little Kretok didn't know why. "These Sith girls know how to work their mouths. Lieutenant, I think it's only fair you get the next go. Push the whore onto her hands and knees."

"I like these Sith better this way." The twi'lek monster in white said. He got down on his knees, and shoved his hips forward. "You were right, captain, these Sith girls are good."

"You should try her from this side." The human said, laughing. Suddenly, there was a flash of light that blinded Kretok and screams from the monsters in white.

"Kretok," his mother gasped, walking over to him. She held her clothes up with one hand, and was walking funny to the youngling. "Oh no..." His mother whimpered. She fell to her knees next to him and touched his face. "Kretok, can you hear mummy? Look at me." Kretok weakly lifted his head, looking his mother in the face. "Don't worry, we're going to get you-"

"That was the wrong move, bitch." One of the monsters in white, with big black eyes, green skin, and a lot of head tails, said. He grabbed Kretok's mother by the hair, pulling her head back. Before she could react, the monster in white produced a blade, and drew it across her throat. Black blood shout of his mother's throat, spilling all over Kretok's face. The monster in white roughly threw her to the ground, with a disgusted grunt.

"Let's move out. Leave the bodies for the animals." The human captain monster in white ordered. The others all fell in behind him.

"Oh, hold on, almost forgot a souvenir." The twi'lek monster in white said. He ran back to Kretok, grabbing the youngling by his small face tendrils. It hurt as the monster in white pulled Kretok off his feet by the sensitive appendages, but Kretok could barely whimper. "Hey, captain, I think the whelp is still alive. Want me to finish him off?"

"No, leave him to bleed out, or for the animals. Just get your souvenir." The human monster in white called back. The twi'lek pulled out the same blade he'd used to stab Kretok, pressing the sharp edge to his taught tendrils. It already hurt as it bit into the soft flesh, but Kretok couldn't fight him off. With one swift motion, the twi'lek severed the tendrils, dropping Kretok to the ground. Kretok's eyes bulged, feeling like they were about to burst from their sockets.

He cried, silently, as he lay there. The monsters in white were now just shrinking forms at the mouth of the cave, disappearing in the bright light. Wing howled through the large chamber, an awful and lonely sound for the young one. Kretok pulled himself towards his mother. He didn't understand why she didn't help him. He didn't understand why she was just laying there, or why she stared out blankly, never blinking. Most of all, he didn't understand why she didn't move when he pressed himself against her, seeking her warmth. He didn't understand that his mother's body was cooling quickly in the ice, nothing more than a shell.

Little Kretok didn't know how long he lay there, shivering on the icy floor, black blood mixing with powder snow into a slurry, crying silent tears. He didn't know such biting cold existed, or that he could feel so much pain. All he knew was fear at the touch of a stranger.

"Oh no," a man said, his accent like Kretok's own. "We're too late. Sanguine'ar's dead."

"What about her son?" An Imperial-accented woman asked. The strange man rolled Kre over, staring into blood shot and dry eyes.

"No, no he's still alive. Hurry, get a medical team!" The man said, waving the woman away.

"Right away, my lord." The Imperial woman ran off. The strange man looked down at Kre, concern instead of anger on his face.

"Kretok, can you hear me?" The man asked. Kretok whimpered. "My name is Lord Doltan, I'm here to help. You're going to be okay, just stay with me." Kretok tried to mumble something, but couldn't get it out. Everything started to get blurry around him, fading into black and white. "Stay awake." Was the last thing Kretok heard.

_I still can't remember her face, my mother, or what her name was before she was Sanguine'ar. I can't even remember her face. All I can remember is the sound of her scream; the feel of her blood on my face. I remember the feel of the blade plunging into me, and the agony of having my tendrils sliced off. The only mercy I can be thankful for was that it was a sharp blade. _

_Ana once asked me what it felt like to have them cut off, since so many Sith take care to protect their tendrils. I told her the only analogy I could think of; "Imagine," I said, "what it would feel like to have your lekku sliced off." She never responded to that, and she never asked the question again._

_-Sanguine'ar. _


	2. His First Kill

_1200 hours; 3,671 years before the Battle of Yavin_

_Vilontal Estate, Kaas City,_

_Dromund Kaas._

It was raining today. Just like it was raining yesterday and the day before that, and just like it probably would tomorrow. The people of Dromund Kaas, the heart of the Empire had grown used to the rain. On this jungle planet, it could rain for days at a time. What truly put people on edge were the lightning storms. Huge towers had had to be erected in and around the city to divert their devastating power.

Everyone knew what the cause of the lightning was, but only the chosen few, like six year old Kretok, could feel it. The great lightning storm that often obscured the planet's skies were the result of a thousand years of Dark Side manipulations by the Emperor and his Sith Lords.

The old Sith Lords often marveled at what the machinations of their predecessors had wrought, but to little Kretok, the storms were just annoying. The pelting rain, bright lightning, and loud thunder just meant another day stuck in his stepfather's estate. He had heard stories that children in the Republic often feared lightning and thunder, shrinking back from the bright flashes and loud, rolling, booms.

For Kretok, though, the sounds of thunder were just more background noise.

With a heavy sigh, he stared out his bedroom window to the excavation site behind his stepfather's estate. In the large pit, dozens of slaves toiled day and night to unearth- well, Kretok wasn't really sure what they were digging for. At times, he thought they were just digging to dig. He thought, perhaps not incorrectly, that his father had them digging the massive hold just to work the slaves to death.

He remembered, just a month ago, as he watched a slave slip from one of the higher scaffolds, falling into the deep pit. Panicked, he had rushed to tell his stepfather what happened. Lord Vilontal had been hosting a gathering of the Empire's up-and-coming Sith and Imperial military at the time. When the young Sith had run in screaming, his stepfather's first reaction was to slap the boy- hard.

"Stop your babbling and speak some sense, boy." Lord Vilontal had hissed.

"One of the diggers fell!" Kretok cried. "I think he's hurt." The gathered crowd of who's-who all laughed at the child.

"If the slave didn't want to fall, then he should have held on tighter. You shouldn't get so worked up over the death or injury of a slave, Kretok. Those people aren't like you and me, or the Imperials; they're property. They exist to serve and, when their usefulness has run out, or their incompetence proves to be too costly, they are disposed of. Still, they can be expensive to replace. Especially young and strong ones fit for manual labor, and the pretty ones." Lord Vilontal said. He snapped his fingers, and two slaves approached with their heads bowed.

"Go find out who he was. If he has a wife, girlfriend, sister, kids, or whatever, bring them to me." Vilontal ordered.

"What should we do if he is alive, master?" The human slave said.

"Leave him. No one is to help him, is that understood?" Sparks flew from Vilontal's fingers, a psychotic and predatory smile twisting his scarred face. The slaves bowed and silently walked off. "Now, why don't you go back to playing, Kretok?" The young Sith nervously walked back to his room. That night was devoid of any sense of fun or peace, as screams echoed through the estate into the early hours. Screams of agony like Kretok could never have imagined. That was the last time Kretok ever told his stepfather about anything the slaves ever did.

Still, the slave's loved ones survived, which was something. The slave's wife was assigned as Kretok's personal attendant, whether as penance for her husband's failure, or some sick joke, Kretok didn't know. He also didn't know who the joke was on; her, or him. Kretok took a moment to look away from the digging slaves to cast a glance at his attendant. She survived, but she'd never really live again.

He'd overheard the over slaves talking about that night one morning a few weeks back. One of the up-and-coming Nobles had complained about how loud she was screaming when the Sith were torturing her, so his stepfather had decided to solve the problem- permanently. The slave woman would never speak, scream, drink, swallow, chew, whistle, sing, sob, or shout again. Not with her mouth surgically sealed.

Even Kretok, young and inexperienced as he was, could feel her hate for him, and she was right to hate him. Many were the nights he would awake in terror as he remembered what he'd done. The other slaves blamed him, too. In the past, he'd managed to sneak out to play with the slave children- well, not the twi'lek ones- but now their parents ushered them away from Kretok whenever they saw him.

"Don't go near Kretok," the parents would say. "No telling what he'll say to his father. You don't want to end up like Saathera do you?"

Kretok let out another sigh. Even if the rain did let up, there wouldn't be anything to do besides looking for lizards or snakes. There was a knock at the door, his slave attendant hurriedly opened it.

"You didn't wait for my stepson's permission before opening the door," Lord Vilontal said. "Bad girl." He lashed out in a fraction of a second, slapping her hard. Hard enough to crack something. Saathera fell to her knees, looking up an Vilontal with teary and pleading eyes. Kretok felt bad for the slave attendant, feeling like it was his fault that happened. "Why aren't you out playing, Kretok."

"It's raining." He said.

"Hm. Good point. Surely there's someone or something around here to play with?" Kretok shook his head. "Oh well. It's a good thing, I suppose; come, it's time to train." Kretok grumbled. Training was so boring, and he always good yelled at, no matter how good he did; and he was good, better than the other students, and even a few of the instructors.

"I don't wanna train." Kretok pouted.

"If you hope to do better than the best at the academy, you'll take every chance you get to sharpen your skills; and be thankful for the opportunity." Vilontal snarled. The sociopathic Sith Lord smacked Kretok on the back of the head, hard. "Someday you'll thank me for this, boy." Kretok supposed he was lucky, when he got beat, it was usually just a smack or a slap. The slaves and servants were the ones who had bear the brunt o Vilontal's psychopathic tendencies. Plus, Kretok would eventually be leaving the estate to go train at the Sith academy on Dromund Kaas and, possibly, even Korriban; if they finished it in time.

The slaves, on the other hand, were never allowed to leave- unless they were killed or sold.

"What am I going to be doing today?" Kretok asked.

"I think you're going to be working on your blade techniques today. Your saber instructor has a special surprise for you." Vilontal said.

"A surprise?!" Kretok yelped, excited. "What surprise?"

"Well, if I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise." The two of them walked down to the estate's courtyard. A large training ring had be created in the center of the courtyard. The instructors and Lord Vilontal didn't bother to cover it whenever it rained, believing that the trainees needed to prepare for rainy and muddy conditions. A few of the trainees had cut themselves badly when they slipped in mud, or when their hands slipped on the training swords.

Hopefully, he wouldn't do either of those today.

"Ah, the last of the would-be's arrives." Kretok's trainer said.

"Indeed, Lord Plutarch." Lord Vilontal said. Kretok was pushed forward, towards the training ring. Reluctantly, he squeezed through the bars, and pushed into the center of the ring. Kretok's stepfather took a seat under the awning to watch the trainees.

"The six of you have shown potential for martial skills, and a natural talent for the manipulation of the Force. Today we are going to try to something different; instead of the usual training blades we've been using, I've created three training lightsabers for top performers in our first exercise." Lord Plutarch said. All the trainees looked excited and eager. All that is, except for Kretok. He raised a red hand, immediately garnering Lord Plutarch's attention. "Yes, trainee?"

"What happens to the bottom three?" Kretok asked. Plutarch smiled, his pale white face made all the more hideous.

"Good question, Kretok. Very astute. The bottom three performers will be on the receiving end of the training sabers." The smiles and jubilee immediately died down.

"Won't that kill us?" Another trainee, a wretched twi'lek with green skin, asked.

"Possibly, if your opponent is particularly vicious. Now, let's begin." Plutarch brought out six training blades, handing one to each student. "Pair up." The students split into three groups of two. "Even Darth Marr doesn't face every threat single-handedly. There will be times where you'll have to fight in tandem with your fellow Sith and Imperial soldiers. As such, you must learn to fight as a team. We'll start simple; I've brought with me three tuk'ata, straight from Korriban.

"Tuk'ata are vicious and fearless beasts, completely relentless, and powered by the Dark Side; just like all children of Korriban. These particular tuk'ata have not eaten in days, and a couple of younglings would do well satiate their hunger." He used the Force to pull the covers off of three cages. The tuk'ata within immediately went berserk. Their eyes were crazed, their fangs bared, snouts twisted and snarling, and their claws sharp. They scratched against the bars of their cages, sending sparks flying.

Kretok had teamed up with another Pureblood, a girl about his age named Nalleria. She looked nervous, gripping the hilt of her blade so tight her knuckles were white. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her eyes couldn't peel away from the rattling cage.

"Get ready," Lord Plutarch said. "In 3...2...1." The doors of the cage opened, the tuk'atas charging out. Nalleria let out a scream, and ran away from the tuk'ata. Kretok braced himself, keeping his blade in front of him. The tuk'ata barreled past him, chasing after Nalleria. The Pureblood girl was fast, but a starving tuk'ata is always faster. The beast pounced, pinning her to the ground. Nalleria screamed as it's razor-sharp claws cut into her.

Kretok acted purely on instinct. He jumped into the air, propelling himself at the tuk'ata. The young Pureblood slammed into the tuk'ata, knocking the canine creature off of Nalleria. Enraged at being pulled away from its meal, the tuk'ata roared and charged at Kretok. Kretok side-stepped to the left at the last second, slashing at the tuk'ata. It howled in pain as Kretok's blade cut into its side.

Kretok himself roared at the tuk'ata, doing something he'd never done before. The Force flowed with his scream of rage and fury, smashing into the tuk'ata, and knocking it back a few steps. The hound looked disoriented, and wasn't able to launch an immediate counter attack. Nalleria finally managed to climb back on her feet, looking ready to get back in the fight. She was covered in blood and scratches, but very angry. His stepfather had taught him early on that anger was good.

"I'm gonna kill it!" She screamed. Holding her blade high, she ran through the mud at the beast, yelling at the top of her lungs. The tuk'ata didn't seem to notice her, even as she drew only a few steps from it. The tuk'ata remained completely focused Kretok, its eyes locking with his. He steadied his blade in front of him, ready to defend himself again. It tensed itself, preparing the charge. Kretok kept his hands steady, gaze strong, and will unbreaking. The tuk'ata sprung, pouring all its strength into this charge.

Suddenly the tuk'ata's eyes rolled back in its head, it tripped over its own legs, and slid towards him, splashing mud all over. A blade was lodged in its spine, between its shoulder blades.

"Kretok, Nalleria, well done." Lord Plutarch said. The fight seemed like it had gone on for hours but, in reality, it had lasted less than two minutes. "You both worked well together, and your natural skills complimented each other. Kretok, I foresee that you could have a strong future following the Juggernaut path. Nalleria, I have little doubt that you'll easily master the arts of the Marauder.

"I also have to ask, Kretok, how long have you been practicing your Force Screams and target refocusing?"

"I haven't my lord." Kretok said. "It just happened."

"Well, if you're able to re-direct an enraged tuk'ata at the age of eight without even noticing, and can blast a target with such a strong scream without knowing how, then you'll be a terrifying force when you do begin to take conscious control of your powers. Nalleria; I was extremely annoyed in the beginning when you allowed the beast to break through your defenses, but you managed to harness your hate quickly. Why did you chose that spot to strike?"

"I didn't think about it my lord, it was just instinct." Nalleria said.

"Impressive. I've seen Sith with years of training unable to hit such a keen and sensitive spot, if they can even identify it. You still have far to go, but you show great potential."

"Thank you, my lord." Nalleria said with a bow. The other two teams were a bit slower, the twi'lek and his partner taking out their tuk'ata last.

"Ten minute break, then we move onto the next exercise." Lord Plutarch said. The blade master exited the ring, moving to talk to Kretok's stepfather. Lord Vilontal seemed pleased as he spoke to their teacher while occasionally glancing over at Kretok. Their break seemed to end quickly, quicker than the trainees would have liked, if for no other reason than it mean three of them could possibly be dying soon.

Lord Plutarch separated the trainees into two groups. Kretok, Nalleria, and a human boy who's name Kretok never could remember were in one. The twi'lek and two human boys were in the other. Plutarch handed the training lightsabers to Kretok, Nalleria, and the boy who was with them. He then paired each one of them up with someone from the other group. To Kretok's annoyance, the twi'lek was paired with Nalleria.

"Your goals are this; if you have one of the training sabers, dominate your opponent. If you don't, defend yourself with all your might, and try to turn the tables on your attacker. Begin." Kretok activated the saber, nearly losing control as the blade shot out. It took all of the strength in his hands and forearms just to keep the blade under control. His opponent, however, had no such problems. The human yelled loud and charged towards Kretok.

Metal clashed against light with a vicious hiss. The human launched an unrelenting assault against Kretok, never giving the Pureblood a moment of respite. Kretok did what he could to block the blows, deflecting a side-slash, parrying an over-head strike, countering a straight stab. Kretok was getting pushed back, and knew he didn't have long to turn the tables before he ran out of room.

Acting on instinct, he lashed out with a vicious kick to the human's shins. The human boy dropped to one knee, getting a powerful back-hand follow-up. The boy started crying and curled into a ball.

"Finish the fight, Kretok." Lord Plutarch ordered. Kretok raised his blade, ready to deliver the final blow. Something within him prevented him from bringing the blade down. As he watched the human struggling and writhing in pain, Kretok couldn't help but be reminded of himself just a few years ago. With a sullen expression, he lowered his blade. The lightsaber retracted, feeling lighter in his hands somehow.

"Kretok!" Lord Vilontal shouted. "Lord Plutarch gave you an order, finish that child! Prove that you have what it takes to be a true Sith!" Kretok shook his head in defiance. Vilontal was on him in a flash, throwing Kretok to the ground with a powerful blow. In a rage, Vilontal closed on the defeated boy, striking the child down mercilessly. "I will not tolerate weakness in my house." Vilontal spat. Kretok shakily climbed to his feet, staring at Vilontal. He was afraid of the evil Sith Lord but, deep in his heart, the seed of hate and anger was growing.

"Plutarch, end this quickly, my patience for these novices is at an end." Vilontal said. Plutarch bowed his head.

_1800 hours_

Kretok found himself in front of his window once again. The rain still hadn't stopped, it hadn't even lightened up. His slave attendant stood by, silent and spiteful as usual, waiting for some command or order. Kretok drummed his fingers on the window sill, trying to think of something to do. Something started to feel wrong to Kretok, a tingling feeling in the back of his head. He looked around his room, but nothing was amiss.

Pain filled the back of his mind, not his, but someone elses. Kretok spun on his heels to see the face of his slave attendant twisted in agony, a violet lightsaber protruding from her chest. Her murdered pulled the blade from her chest, letting her fall to the ground.

"By the Force I do love that feeling," Lord Vilontal's equall psychotic apprentice, Hellun, said. "You, boy, Lord Vilontal sent me to bring you down to the antechamber."

"No, I don't want to go." Kretok said, backing away from the advancing Sith.

"Well, that's too bad; you're coming with me!" She lashed out and grabbed Kretok by the arm. Kretok bit down on her forearm, hard as he could, sharp teeth and powerful jaws tearing into human flesh. Hellun screamed in pain and began to beat him. The Sith youngling managed to hold on for several blows before finally having to relent. Hellun, however, was a fully-fledged Sith, and they weren't known for their forgiveness. Down the blows came, each one more painful than the last.

Kretok could feel his anger building with each blow. He shut his eye and imagined Hellun gasping for air, chocking on nothing, trying to pry off invisible hands. He heard a strangled gagging sound coming from his attacker in the same instant. Cautiously, Kretok opened his eyes to see Hellun on her knees, gasping for air, and reaching out her hand for help. Kretok didn't know how he was doing it, other than that it was through the Force, or how to control it.

Suddenly, she dropped to all fours, gasping incredibly hard.

"Bollocks to that," Hellun said. "You're too much troubl-" Her hands shot to her throat as she was hoisted into the air. Kretok knew he wasn't the one doing it, this time.

"I told you to bring the child to me," Lord Vilontal hissed. "Yet you couldn't manage it. A little display of skill in the Force, and you try to turn tail and run." She went flying away from Kretok, getting herself impaled on a crimson saber. "I will show you far less mercy then the boy did." Vilontal removed the blade, letting Hellun fall to the floor. The female apprentice was on her knees, barely clinging to life, but was too alive for Vilontal's tastes. He raised his blade, bringing it down on the girls neck, cleanly separating her head from the rest of her body. "And now, you die in shame."

Kretok couldn't believe his eyes. He knew Vilontal was evil, but not so evil was to murder his own apprentice. He had always spoken highly of Hellun, about her skill, her malevolence, her strength in the Dark Side, how she could do great things with her mouth and moaned like a whore; though Kretok had never understood what that last part meant.

"As for you," Lord Vilontal said, looking to Kretok. "You're starting to be more trouble then you're worth." Vilontal grabbed Kretok by the hair, and drug him down to the massive entrance of the estate. "Do you know why I took you in boy?" Vilontal asked Kretok as he drug the boy down the stairs.

"No." Kretok whined, just trying to keep up.

"It wasn't out of kindness, or because I think every child deserves a family, or for the Empire, I did it for me. You see, Kretok, your family, the Sanguine'ar line, has one of the largest holdings in all the Empire. Its future has been in flux since your whore mother was killed, and you're the only heir to it all. By bringing you up, and getting you through your trials so you can claim the title of Sanguine'ar, I'd claim you as my apprentice, and would thus gain direct control over all that your family holds.

"The Dark Council would have no choice but to name me Darth, and my influence would expand exponentially."

Kretok, for his part, had no idea what any of this meant and, right now, he didn't care. All Kretok wanted to do was get out of Vilontal's grasp, having his hair pulled so violently was incredibly painful. All this talk about holds, power, titles, family lineage, it was all just beyond Kretok. He didn't even know his family had an estate, let alone a large one, or that he even had a family. He'd certainly never been in his family's house, mansion, or whatever it was.

The two of them reached the antechamber, where a crowd had gathered. Kretok could feel a large number of Force users in the room, some of them far more powerful than Vilontal. Standing in the very front was a man in yellow-orange armor, a helmet with a single black bar for a visor covered his face, a hood covered the rest of his head, and two spikes shot out from each pauldron.

Slightly behind him stood a woman in purple robes, with a strange hat that had a flat top, and flared up. Like a top hat, but without the brim, and in the same awful coloring. Her skin wasn't necessarily grey, more like silver, almost as if it were made of metal.

"Darth Marr, Darth Mekhis, I'm pleased to see you could make it my lords." Vilontal said, with a deep bow. Kretok recognized them now; Darth Marr was de facto head of the Dark Council, and the member with the longest tenure. Some rumors said he was invincible, but he was known to be undefeated. He was responsible for overseeing the Empire's defense in the ongoing war with the Republic. He was a legendary duelist, ruthless, and stronger in the ways of the Dark Side then almost every other Sith in the Empire; save the Emperor himself.

Darth Mekhis, on the other hand, was not a member of the Dark Council, though likely to be named to a position sooner, rather than later. Where most Sith focused on martial prowess, or unraveling the mysteries of the Dark Side, Mekhis focused her efforts on technological advancement. One of the most skilled weapons systems and naval designers the Empire had ever seen, she also had a fondness of cybernetics.

"Spare us the pleasantries, Vilontal," Darth Marr said. His arms were crossed in indignation. "We aren't here for our health, show us whatever it is you have to show us."

"Of course, my lords." Vilontal said with a tone of aggravated surrender. "I have with me the son of the last Sanguine'ar, Kretok Nameisis."

"And? It seems like the boy wants nothing to do with whatever it is you have to show us." Marr said. "I trust there's a reason you're dragging the next link in the Sanguine'ar chain around by the hair?"

"Of course, my lords. Kretok has shown great potential in his exercises too far, but he hesitates at the final moment; he shows- mercy." Some in the crowd remained began to whisper amongst each other. Mekhis and Marr stood silent. "I have brought you all hear to witness Kretok's first kill, and so that he knows what a true Sith must do."

"Well then, get on with it." Mekhis hissed. Vilontal threw Kretok to the ground, motioning to someone on the other side of the room. The people parted, save for Marr and Mekhis who moved only for the Emperor, letting two Imperials through. They drug a girl with them, possibly fifteen or sixteen. An iridonian, based on the horns. She'd been beaten and abused badly, judging from the bruises and cuts on her face. The Imperials dropped her in front of Kretok, stepping to the side.

"Kill this slave, Kretok." Vilontal ordered. Kretok looked at the girl, shocked, then up at his master, pleadingly. He shook his head. "Kill her now, Kretok." Vilontal said again. Kretok didn't, earning himself a good strike from Vilontal. "You will do as you're told!"

"Why do I have to kill her?" Kretok asked. Vilontal struck him again.

"You will kill her because I tell you to!"

"But I don't want to." Kretok said. Another strike.

"You will not disobey now, in front of everyone. Kill her, or else."

"No." Kretok said. There was no blow this time, no fist striking his face, to kick to the stomach. There was blue fire, Force Lightning. It burned Kretok all over, from the inside out. Kretok screamed in agony.

"Kill her!" Vilontal shouted.

"I don't even know how." Kretok whimpered. It was a lie, but he hoped it would be enough. It was a foolish hope. Vilontal shocked him again, longer this time.

"Do as I command!"

"Why?" Kretok asked. "Why does she have to die?"

"What?!" Vilontal shouted. People in the crowd were starting to laugh, mocking Vilontal. Even Mekhis had a smile on her face.

"There's much defiance in this little Sith, Darth Marr." Mekhis said. "I like him."

"Yes, but defiance must be tempered." Marr countered. Vilontal continued to shock the boy, nearly killing him.

_Please,_ a voice inside Kretok's head said. _Killing me will be a mercy for us both. Do not suffer for me, it will do neither of us any good. Kill me, and you at least can escape._ Kretok realized it was the girl speaking to him. She wore a pleasant little smile, almost encouraging him.

_But I don't want to. _Kretok said.

_In life, we all have to do things we don't want to, just to survive. Whether you spare me or not won't matter; they'll just hurt me more in the slave pens before they kill me. You've already suffered so much, don't suffer for a dead girl._

_I'm afraid. _

_ That's good._ The girl said. _Don't ever stop being afraid of hurting or killing, it will make you a better person. It's alright, go ahead, it might hurt, but at least I'll see my mother again._ Kretok shut his eyes through the tears and through the pain. He imagined the girl's body suddenly going limp, that her heart stopped and she died painlessly. That both their suffering was over.

A gasp shot through the room. Kretok opened his eyes to see the girl on the floor. She stared out blankly, still wearing the smile. Everyone either looked shocked or impressed, even Darth Marr had his arms unfolded for the first time. Kretok felt completely numb, like his entire body stopped. Maybe he'd killed himself, too?

"At last, I was beginning to wonder if it was even possible." Vilontal droned. The numb feeling in Kretok's body was immediately replaced by a burning sensation at the sound of the Sith Lord's voice. He hated Vilontal, almost as much as he hated twi'leks. He heard the grownups talking, maybe arguing. To him, it was all just white noise. Kretok's eyes burned as they stared at the body. Vilontal had made this happen. Vilontal had force Kretok to do this. Vilontal had forced her to be happy with death. All of this suffering was Vilontal's fault.

"I hate you!" Kretok screamed, glaring at Vilontal. He beat his small fists against the Sith Warriors armor, getting nothing but sore hands.

"Good. Finally you begin to show passion and anger; they will serve you well." Vilontal said, smiling almost proudly. "But you forget yourself." Vilontal delt Kretok a strong backhand, knocking the little Pureblood to the ground. "Now shut up, Dart Marr and I are talking." Kretok's face burned, especially in the spot he was hit. He could feel his anger and sadness growing inside him. Lights began to flicker, objects on shelves and on belts began to rattle and shot off, tables and chairs were thrown around the room, even a few tables were hurled through the crowd. Though he didn't know at the time, Kretok was reaching out through the Force, fueled by his grief and anger.

"It seems your stepson is far from finished." Mekhis said.

"I am not his son!" Kretok growled. His voice was so much deeper than it had ever been, and it seemed to echo from everywhere. Would that he could have seen his own face, he would have seen that his eyes emitted a strong red light; a rare trait that only occurs amongst the most powerful of Force users. Kretok shot out his hand, blasting out through the Force. Darths Marr and Mekhis shielded themselves with ease, but Vilontal was forced back several steps despite his efforts.

The non-Sith who got caught in the blast were thrown back, spinning head-over-heels in the air, helplessly.

"That is enough Kretok!" Vilontal ordered. "You will obey me!"

"No!" Kretok shouted. He was acting off pure hate, adrenaline, and instinct. How he managed to throw out several lashes of Force Lightning, he didn't know, but he did. Vilontal managed to block it with his saber, but it was a struggle for him. Ultimately, Kretok just didn't have the stamina to outlast the Lord, and collapsed onto the floor, winded and drained.

"Truly remarkable." Marr said. "Should he survive, he will make a great Sith; perhaps one of the best."

"Indeed, my lord." Vilontal said. The evil Sith lord was grinning from ear to ear, proud and happy from the child's actions. "He is far beyond where I was at his age. I think it will only be a couple of years before he is ready to go to the academy."

"The boy should be sent now, he is more than powerful enough." Mekhis said.

"It is true that he does not want for strength in the Force, and he does seem to be physically strong for his age; but that much power without control is a disaster waiting to happen. You must remember, Darth Mekhis, that it is not your power, if you cannot control it. The boy must learn that control; only then will he be a force to truly be reckoned with."

"I foresee my son having an astounding career as a Sith Warrior, and did you see how he took those lightning blasts, my lords? If that isn't the sign of a Juggernaut in the making, I don't know what is." Vilontal said. He snapped his fingers, and two slaves appeared at his sides. "Take Kretok up to his room, and put him to bed. He has a big day tomorrow."

The slaves bowed, and helped the little Sith to his feet. Gently, lest they earn the ire of their master, they guided him the seeming long (longer then when he'd come down earlier, at least) way back to his room. Kretok's bed had never felt better, and he had never felt more tired. The slaves turned out the lights, leaving him there.

Kretok tossed and turned for awhile in the dark, staring into the blackness. He was so tire, but then why wasn't he able to sleep? Why did he feel empty, broken, inside? His stepfather was proud of him for the first time, even complimenting his skills, and he'd impressed the leading member of the Dark Council. Some Sith spent their entire lives trying to do that. So, why then, was he unable to think of anything besides what he did to that girl?

Every other Sith, acolyte, and would-be acolyte, would have felt proud had they accomplished what he accomplished. Why, then did he feel terrible? Why was he crying? Why, when so many Force Sensitive children would have been excited for the future, was he busy lamenting the present? When would the nightmare end?

_Some nightmares never end. I've killed so many more innocent people in my time since then; some were deliberate, targets of my rage and blood lust; some were accidents, collateral damage in an assault, or the victims of mistaken identities; others were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've never felt good about it, not once. My master often called my mercy a weakness, something that needed to be purged. Others have called it a gift, an uncommon trait amongst the Sith and the Empire. Maybe they're right, but that doesn't make me feel any better. Some nightmares never end, haunting us for the rest of our days, and I have so many nightmares._

_-Sanguine'ar._


	3. His First Battle

_Had the timeline wrong, should be corrected now_

_1400 hours; 3,669 years before the Battle of Yavin_

_Vilontal Estate, Kaas City,_

_Dromund Kaas._

Eight year old Kretok had never been more excited in all his life. Today was the day of days; the day he would be taken to the Sith Academy on Dromund Kaas. He felt he was finally ready, training day and night everyday for the past two years had led to remarkable progress. He was taller than almost every other kid his age, and had a musculature to rival teen-age weight-lifters. His skills with a blade had also progressed by leaps and bounds, he even beat a couple of his trainers.

Strength in the Force was his area of greatest improvement, though. He'd begun to learn how to channel his strength in the Dark Side into physical strength, and how to use it to bolster his defense. To mark the occasion, Lord Vilontal had had a special vibroblade custom made for Kretok. The blade had high-grade cortosis weave spun into the metal, and the energy cell caused the blade to vibrate on a frequency capable of cutting through almost any energy shield.

Kretok had also been given a new outfit to wear at the academy. The base fabric was black, with a red trim, and armor plates fit in at key areas. It would protect him from anything he was likely to encounter in his first year at the academy.

Despite his excitement, and all the things he'd been given, Kretok still hated Lord Vilontal. The Sith lord had not gotten any less malevolent in the last two years, and Kretok had been on the receiving end more than once. The slaves still got the worst of it, over a dozen having been slaughtered just because Vilontal was in a bad mood. Most of them hadn't even done anything wrong, they'd just been born in the wrong class.

Kretok couldn't wait for the Academy's envoys to come and get him so he could be rid of this place forever. He wasn't the only one who was headed to the academy today, either. The Pureblood girl, Nalleria, and the twi'lek boy (who Kretok had learned was named Alzer'ath) were here too.

"Very soon, the three of you will take the next step on the path to becoming true Sith. The Academy here on Dromund Kaas has been producing Sith for the entirety of our thousand year exile and reconstruction. It will be there that the base of your worth will truly be measured. Make no mistake; the chances are very good that all three of you will die. If, however, you have what it takes, you may just have the chance to train at our soon-to-be-finished Academy on Korriban, birthplace of the Sith." Lord Vilontal said.

"Appreciate this opportunity, young acolytes. Most in the Empire will never receive one like it."

"Lord Vilontal," Nalleria asked, raising her hand. "How long will it take for us to become true Sith?"

"Good question," Vilontal said. "It all depends on you. The average is around the age of eighteen, though it could be sooner or later depending on you. That is, of course, assuming you survive."

"I'm gonna be the greatest Sith, ever!" Alzer'ath shouted.

"A goal all Sith aspire to. Arguably, none have achieved it. Our Emperor still rules all that the Empire touches, and even the Dark Council fears his power."

"Well, I'm gonna become more powerful then the Emperor!" Alzer'ath said.

"No you're not," Nalleria said. "You're just an alien, and my mummy says aliens can never become true Sith."

"Well, you're mom's an idiot." Alzer'ath taunted the young Pureblood girl.

"Enough." Vilontal ordered. The two acolytes growled and turned away from each other reluctantly. "What about you, Kretok, what do you hope to accomplish as a Sith?"

"First," Kretok began, "I'm going to hunt down the Republic scum who killed my mother. Then, I'm going to kill you." Kretok focused all of his hate into the glare he shot Vilontal.

"Ha!" Vilontal laughed, clapping the boy on the back. "Now there's a real goal; clear, concise, and achievable if your will is strong enough."

"I think your goal is stupid." Alzer'ath said. "When I get my lightsaber, I'm going to kill you first, just for being stupid."

"Ah, nothing like a budding rivalry." Vilontal said.

"Watch your back, twi'lek, or I'll cut your lekku off when you're not looking." Kretok hissed, not bothering to look at the twi'lek.

"Oh, I'm soo scared!" Alzer'ath mocked. "Why don't you back that up." Kretok blasted the twi'lek boy with the Force, knocking the green child to the ground. Kretok moved fast, blade ready for an over-head swing that would end the child.

"Enough, Kretok. There are better times and places to settle your dispute. Besides, I told the academy that there would be three initiates for them, and I am going to deliver them three initiates; alive." Kretok tore himself away from Vilontal's grasp with a huff.

The academy transport pulled in front of the estate a few minutes later. The three children got in and took their seats. Alzer'ath and Nalleria seemed to forget their scuffle as they quipped and chirped about the lightsabers the overseers were carrying. Kretok sat in the back, glaring at the twi'lek. The human overseers, both male and in red armor with metal shoulder plates, seemed to have the same distaste.

"Kretok," a familiar voice said from behind him. Kretok turned and immediately jumped up, sliding into a deep bow. Darth Marr stood in front of him. "You may rise."

"You two, shut up. A member of the Dark Council is speaking, and you will show him the proper respect!" The overseers chided, dragging the other initiates out of their seats.

"That will not be necessary, I only wish to speak to young Kretok." Darth Marr said. The two overseers bowed, and returned the initiates to their seats. "This is a big day for you, Kretok, but I wonder if you appreciate the burden that has been laid at your feet?"

"I will prove myself worthy of joining the Sith Order or die, my lord." Kretok said, as was expected.

"Indeed, that would be what was expected under normal circumstances, but failure is not an option for you, Kretok. Others might find a place as an overseer, or assistant, or researcher, or one of many other positions within the Academy, without accomplishing the feats required to earn a place as an apprentice. You, on the other hand, must achieve far more. Tell me, what do you know about your lineage."

"Not much, my lord." Kretok said. "I'm part of a family that have been called Sanguine'ar."

"Indeed, but do you know what it means?"

"No, my lord."

"Sanguine'ar is the ancient Sith word for 'Blood Sworn'. It was a promise made to the Sith and Empire a thousand years ago at the end of the Great Hyperspace War, as the Republic and Jedi hunted down anything Sith, and destroyed it. Since then, the Sanguine'ar have stood as the Empire's stalwart defenders. Your mother was the last Sanguine'ar, taken before you were ready, unfortunately. The war likely would have gone much better had she not been killed."

"I miss her." Kretok said, trying to not tear up.

"Good. Remember the pain, Kretok, it will give you an advantage in these early years at the academy, and remember the rage you feel for her killers; it will drive you on when you want to give up."

"Yes, my lord."

"You will soon be facing things that most Sith won't even have imagined dealing with, you must have the strength to prevail; for the Empire demands it." Kretok didn't respond to that. "Think long and hard about what this means, Kretok." Both Dark Councilor and initiate took their seats as the transport lifted into the sky.

The jungle of Dromund Kaas melted below them. The ancient Academy that had trained Sith for a thousand years, since they resettled the planet, was constructed outside the main part of Kaas City; the Sith acolytes needing a great deal of room to train properly, as well as providing a great deal of un-touched jungle in which the acolytes could test themselves. Kretok had never seen the ancient structure, none of them had.

They weren't even allowed onto the premises. Only acolytes, Sith, and chosen servants were permitted to step foot on the academy. When he finally saw it looming in the distance, he could immediately tell that the holovids didn't do the sacred structure justice. It was **massive**. The only thing larger was the Citadel in the heart of Kaas City.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Darth Marr asked.

"Yeah!" Alzer'ath shouted.

"Tulak Horde began construction when he first conquered the Dromund system. After the Empire rediscovered, the surviving Lords (and even the Emperor himself) finished the construction. That academy has produced many of the most powerful Force wielders over the last thousand years."

"My lord Marr?" Nalleria asked.

"Yes?"

"Why has the Empire stayed hidden so long if the Sith are so powerful?" The question was, technically, a serious offense in the Empire. To question the Sith was a great taboo, though not legally a crime, it was considered justified for a Sith to strike down any critics or detractors who were not, themselves, Sith.

"Are you questioning the strength of the Sith?" One of the overseers barked.

"The girl is smart to ask questions. The thirst for knowledge leads to ever increased power. To progress, you must understand the past. For the Empire to progress, and finally crush the Republic, we must learn from our past mistakes; and future generations must understand why we act in the ways we do.

"It is important to know that we have not simply been hiding and waiting. For the last thousand years, we have rebuilt, we have delved into the mysteries of the Force, and we have grown stronger. We have had our agents throughout the galaxy, sowing seeds of strife and discord. It was our agents that approached Mandalore, and set him on the path that started the Mandalorian Wars. When the Jedis Revan and Malak delved into space uncharted by the Republic, they confronted the Emperor. He turned them, and sent them back to cut a path for our return."

"But, why didn't we take over the Republic sooner?" Nalleria asked, her young mind and unhindered imagination finding the holes in the story with ease.

"Because these plans failed, as the Emperor thought they might. We never put all of our faith into these external agents so, when one failed, we simply continued with our plans as if nothing had happened."

"Oh." Nalleria said. The shuttle's intercom clicked on, a static-laced voice announcing the arrival and decent to the Academy grounds. The three new initiates all grew excited as the shuttle shuddered from touch-down.

"Stand up." The overseer closest to the door said. The initiates obeyed. "When the door opens, you will proceed in an orderly fashion straight ahead to the double doors. There, you will be met by your first instructor. You will do exactly what he or she says, is that understood?"

"Yes, overseer," they all replied. The door slid open, and a ramp slid down. The young initiates slowly made their way down it. The strength of the Dark Side seemed to hang in the air so thick that you could cut it with a vibroblade. In the distance, the sounds of acolytes training could be heard. The Dark Side aura fluctuated and rippled from the experiments and castings of the acolytes within.

A young woman stood in the open doorway, her short blond hair was let down, framing her thin face.

"Greetings, young acolytes. My name is Zash, my master has assigned me to oversee your initial training here at the Academy."

"You're pretty," Alzer'ath said.

"Thank you," Zash said sweetly, "but you should stay focused on what's ahead of you. Now, follow me, and I'll show you to your dormitories." Zash took them through the back halls of the academy, up several floors, and finally coming to a stop in front to two doors. "This is where you'll be staying. Kretok and Alzer'ath, the boy's dorms are on the right. Nalleria, the girl's is on the left."

The two boys went into their dorm, the lone girl into her's. "I didn't say you could leave." Zash said. Using the Force, she yanked the three back. "Don't make that mistake again. Your first day of training begins tomorrow at dawn." Zash started to walk away. "Oh, you can go now." The three split up and went into their dormitories. Kretok and Alzer'ath took a bed on opposite sides of the large room, all the others having already been taken.

Neither of them had much to put away, acolytes weren't allowed to bring much. Kretok had the most of the two, and that was only because of the blade he'd been given by his step-father. Alzer'ath only had the clothes on his back, and an extra set. Tradition in the Empire held that any non-Sith family that produced a Force-Sensitive member was to be elevated in the aristocracy, lavished with gifts, property, and more credits then most people could imagine. Alzer'ath, though, was not a typical case. He was an alien, one of the vile twi'leks. The best his family was given was release from slavery.

What they'd likely do from that point on was a mystery. Free or not, non-Sith aliens occupied the bottom rungs of Imperial society. It was unlikely they'd ever find any legitimate form of accumulating wealth within the Empire; or a means of survival.

Still, it wasn't Kretok's concern in any shape or form. What was his concern was how hungry he was. The Academy was huge, and there were no signs anywhere pointing to anything, so it'd probably take him a good long while to find the commissary.

As if on cue, the door at the other end of the dormitory opened. Three people stepped inside; a zabrak woman and girl, and a human man. The zabraks walked over to Kretok, their dress and the collars around the backs of their necks marking them as slaves.

"Greetings, my lord." The woman said. "My name is Harisha, and this is my daughter Sarina. We've been assigned to aid you in any domestic duties your required during your time here at the academy." The girl hid behind her mother, casting quick glances at Kretok. By the looks of things, she couldn't have been far off from his age. "Is there anything you need, my lord?"

"I'm hungry." Kretok told her.

"We will bring you something to eat right away. I believe the cooks have prepared a breaded fish fillets for lunch. Does that suit you?"

"Yes." Kretok said. The slave attendants bowed and left through the door they entered from.

"This is so cool," Alzer'ath said. His own attendant left through the same door as Kretok's moments after Harisha and Sarina did. "I tell him to do stuff, and he has to. I'm going to make sure the whole Empire has to do the same."

"Yeah, right." Kretok said. "The Empire will never bow to an alien, let alone a twi'lek."

"We'll just see about that." Alzerath growled. The alien child stormed out into the hall. Left alone, Kretok decided to investigate the dormitory. In the chest at the foot of his bed, he found a datapad with an Imperial HoloNet connection. On the home screen of the datapad a banner scrolled with information on the war. Imperial and Sith forces were still locked in a stalemate against the Jedi and Republic Special Forces. The campaign had already drug on for twelve years, and was showing no signs of stopping.

Kretok hoped the fighting wouldn't be over before he got a chance to join the fray. To stand against the Jedi and Republic's best would be the truest test of his skills.

He sat the datapad down and continue rummaging through his chest. There were some clothes, a small med kit, and a survival pack. Nothing exciting.

Rain continued to pelt the windows, but the older acolytes were still out performing their exercises. Kretok expected he'd be doing a lot of his own training out in the rain; this was Dromund Kaas, after all, where it rained more often than not. That was all well and good for young Kretok, the rain was often the only thing that could offer him a break from the otherwise oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle planet.

For the mean time, all he could do was wait.

_One week later._

Kretok jumped over a tangle of thick roots, landing hard and nearly tripping over himself.

"Bollocks." He said to himself as he ran through the thick vines. He continued to stumble along as his ankle protested every step. "Zash is going to kill me." Sharp, thin, vines slashed at his face, arms, and any other patch of exposed skin. Behind him could be heard the sounds of crashing vines and snapping branches. Zash had given them an assignment to take something from one of the jungle predators and bring it back to her.

It had occurred to Kretok to take a bone, or plate, or tooth from a dead animal- for about five seconds. His rivalry with Alzer'ath was a strong as ever, and Kretok hoped that getting one of the crest points from an adult yozusk would increase his lead over the twi'lek. The plan had gone great, right up until Kretok walked into the yozusk's nest. The creature's senses were sharper then he'd thought, and it snapped straight awake once Kretok stepped out of the jungle brush.

Now the hungry predator was busy chasing him through the jungle; and was quickly catching up to him. Kretok jumped, landing on top of a large boulder.

"Perfect," he said. Kretok crouched down, ready to leap down. Carefully, he watched the shaking brush behind him. The charging yozusk tore away the last of the branches, charging straight for the boulder. Kretok tensed, his eyes switching from his intended landing spot to the green body barreling towards him.

At the last second, he leapt from the rock as the yozusk crashed into it. Kretok landed, rolling back up to his feet. He turned, triumphant, preparing to take his trophy. That was the plan, at least, a plan quickly dashed upon the rocks when he realized the yozusk was still alive, and recovering. The boulder had been shattered, but the yozusk's thick skull protected it from the worst of the blow. "Not again." He moaned as he ran back into the jungle.

The native charger was hot on his heels, powerful arms and legs carrying it through the tough foliage with ease. Something told Kretok to drop, carrying him into a long slide. Above him a flash or brown passed by. He turned around as he stood to see a large gundark fighting with the yozusk. He suspected that the gundark had no idea that the yozusk was there until it'd missed Kretok. Now the two predators were too busy killing each other to worry about him.

Ever the clever acolyte, Kretok decided to hide up in a tree until one of the two had killed the other, then take a trophy from the loser of the fight. The yozusks' long claws on the end of its powerful arms cut deep into the gundark, but its mobility was far more limited by its stubby hind legs and large crest. The gundark grabbed hold of the towering plate of bone covered in emerald flesh, and yanked down. The yozusk was pulled off its feet, and slammed into the ground.

The gundark grabbed the yozusks' bottom beak. With one hand on the crest, and the other on the beak, it twisted. The yozusks' eyes strained as its neck snapped, before going limp and lose. Triumphant, the gundark slammed its fists into the ground and roared. Kretok noticed the back of the gundark's neck was open and vulnerable. Deciding against his original plan, he leapt from his hiding place, pointing his blade down. The sharp metal bit into the gundark's flesh.

About a second later, Kretok realized he missed his mark, or maybe he just didn't go deep enough. Either way, the gundark was angry, and Kretok was its new target. The behemoth thrashed and flailed around, desperately clawing at its back to shake Kretok off. The young Pureblood held on as best as he could, but he couldn't dodge the powerful arms while simultaneously resisting the force of gravity trying to fling him off. Deciding smashing into a tree was better than being torn in half, he let go, and went flying off.

He crashed and banged through several meters of the brush, his face smashing against a rock. He burned all over, and was cut pretty badly in some areas. He'd no doubt picked up several new scars. Especially over his lips, where he'd first smashed into the rock. A wide gash now split both his upper and lower lips, thick blood pouring into his mouth. His vision was blurry, and the world was spinning.

On instinct, he rolled to the side, nearly avoiding being smashed by the gundark's massive fists.

"What'd I ever do to you?!" Kretok shouted at the beast. "I mean, besides pit you against another jungle predator in the hopes you two would kill each other." The gundark roared at him. The gundark spun, swinging one of its massive hands around. Kretok was too slow, catching the full blow of the beast in the chest. He felt things snap and stab, the air was pushed from his lungs. Fear coursed through his veins as he realized he was on the brink of death. The gundark roared and charged; Kretok knew he couldn't move in time. This was it; he would die here, alone in the jungle, to be ripped to shreds and devoured by all manner of beasts.

The thought enraged him. He was Pureblood, one of a lineage of proud warriors who had built and Empire in the stars before most species had even left their own solar systems. They had been the first to repel the vile Rakata that sought to make slaves of them. They were the true masters of the galaxy and the Force. Yet, he was to seemingly find his death here.

"No," Kretok coughed. "I will not die here." He focused his pain, his fear, and his rage into the Force. He didn't truly know what he was doing, but his instincts had led him right so far. There was a cracking and crunching sound in the jungle behind him, jungle birds scattered into the night sky. With a roar, he thrust his arm forward. A large tree shot into his view. The gundark stopped and tried to run, but the projectile caught it.

The beast was slammed into another tree, branches piercing its body all over. It let out a weak gurgling sound as its muscular body went limp. He'd done it. He'd beaten the beast, but he still couldn't move. It was getting hard to breathe, and his coughing brought up blood. His eyelids grew heavy, but he tried to fight. Every time they fell shut, he would force them open. The world as he was able to see it grew every more blurred. The last time he opened his eyes, he could make out two figures. One human male, tall with white skin, yellow eyes, no hair, and metal armor. The other was cloaked in black and purple robes. Under his hood was a golden face plate with horizontal bars running across it.

"So, he was the source of the disturbance." The robed figure said. "Interesting."

"Should we take him with us, master?" The human asked.

"Yes, I think so. There is greatness in this boy's future, Malgus. It would be unacceptable to let such potential go to waste." The robed figure said. As Kretok finally succumbed to the great blackness, he vaguely saw the human bending down.


	4. His First Test

_2000 hours; 3,669 years before the Battle of Yavin_

_Sith Academy First Year Acolyte Training Ring_

_Dromund Kaas._

Kretok still hurt, everywhere. It'd been two months since he'd nearly been torn to shreds by the yozusk and gundark, but he'd recovered enough to move. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to make it back to the academy, and no one felt like telling him. That was fine enough for him, he was alive, and that was the important part. Unfortunately, he was two months behind the other acolytes. Technically, he'd failed his test, and shouldn't be here.

The other acolytes that had failed, but survived, had been drummed out of the academy, or shifted into lesser training roles. Someone, somewhere, was apparently looking out for him, though. His failure was a mark of shame, but he was still being given the opportunity to prove that he did have what it took to be a Sith. Zash, for all her exterior beauty and seeming innocent personality, was proving to be particularly malicious.

She would only agree to allow him back if he proved that he didn't need the additional two months of training. She had said she would only allow him back if he killed a particularly vicious and dangerous creature; the native jurgoran. The bipedal amphibians were as strong as any gundark, but far smarter. They could run fast, and swim faster. Wild jurgorans had been known to snap acolytes twice his age and experience in half, and some Sith liked to keep them like Hutts kept rancors.

So, he found himself back out in the swamp. The humid, hot, wet swamp full of bugs and vicious creatures. Only one thing chilled him to the bone, though, and it wasn't the vine cats or the yozusks, or the gundarks, it was the beetles. On a planet where herbivores basically didn't exist, most of the beetles developed nasty pinchers, and had very hard carapaces. Still, that wasn't why he feared them. He could never quite place it, but just seeing their shinning shells, their bulging eyes, and their long legs could send him into a panic.

He hated beetles, and there were a lot of them. A lot of big, vicious, hard as stone, beetles.

Every step along the muddy banks of the water ways was a struggle, each step sinking him to his knees. The black mud soaked through his clothing, and oozed into his boots. Every few seconds, something rippled through the water. Jurgorans tended to hunt near the banks of the rivers, launching quick and devastating surprise attacks on anything that wandered close. Kretok had to stay close enough to be enticing, but still keep enough distance to be able to react. So far, he was wailing on that second part.

A vicious carnivorous snail could crawl onto the banks, and Kretok wouldn't be able to get away fast enough to not be absorbed.

"Mud is very quickly climbing its way up the list of things I hate." Kretok said to himself. "I'm never going to get all of this out." Something stirred in the water beside him, something large. Kretok readied his blade, expecting prepared for anything. Something long and lithe jumped out of the water, splashing through the air before diving back down. "Stupid fish." He swore. "Jumping around and scaring me and stu-" The foliage on his other side burst forward, leaves and branches going flying. The yozusk had its head down, planning to batter him down.

"Bollocks..." Kretok said. There was nothing he could do like this, no way to jump out of the way or duck. "Oh, sod it." He pushed out with the Force, slamming it against the charging beast. The yozusk smash into the invisible wall, its hulking body actually lifting into the air. It staggered back a few steps, injured, dazed, and likely very confused. Blood seeped from lacerations in the skin of its crest and head. Kretok decided to push his momentary advantage, taking up an aggressive stance. The yozusk backed down before finally retreating back into the bush.

With another threat out of the way, Kretok continued to slog along the banks, looking for any sign of a jurgoran. So far, he hadn't even found a footprint or a carcass. "Wait, what am I doing?" Kretok suddenly asked himself. "I'm a Sith, I'll just use the Force to find one!" He stretched out his mind through the currents of the Dark Side that permeated the planet. Jurgorans were pure carnivores, aggressive and ruthless. They should be easy enough to find if he simply focused on those aggressive tendencies.

"There." He said, locating one about a kilometer away. From what he could tell it was large, even by jurgoran standards. Still, it was his best shot. He made his way out of the thick mud and onto more solid ground. If he was careful, and he really wasn't, the bush would provide him some cover to get the jump on the jurgoran. It was something to help even the odds, at least. He jumped, swung, and sprinted the distance.

Kretok found the jurgoran at the mouth of a rapid in the river. The amphibian was crouched and didn't seem to be paying attention to the world around him. He quietly climbed up a nearby tree, hoping to use it to attack the jurgoran from above. The beast was far bigger then Kretok was expecting, standing at least three meters tall, with long, powerful, arms, and thick skin. Unlike the gundark, however, the jurgoran had far more weak points. While the gundark's head was naturally inclined back towards the shoulders making a strike to the back of the neck difficult, the jurgoran's head and neck were more humanoid, giving a greater angle of attack to the brains stem.

Kretok readied his blade and tensed his legs. He pushed himself off with all of his might, lunging towards the beast. In a flash, the jurgoran stood up on its massive legs, spun, and grabbed hold of Kretok.

"One of these times that'll work." Kretok said as he squirmed in the jurgoran's grasp. The beast lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all. It took a huge whiff with its flat nostrils before roaring at him, putrid breath and chunks of rotten flesh flowing over his face. "Gross." The beast reared back to take a bite out of young Kretok, thinking it had found an easily meal. Kretok readied himself, drawing his free right arm back. When he was close enough, he lashed out, driving his blade up and into the roof of the jurgoran's mouth.

The beast screamed in pain and shock. It grabbed hold of the blade that had been driven into its skull. It pulled the blade out, looking at the offending object with abject lack of understanding. The beast started to wobble, its eyes losing focus. With a pitiful moan, the jurogoran fell forward and died. Thick blue-black blood oozed from the wound in its mouth, creating a gurgling sound as the last of the air in its lungs seeped out.

"Well, that wasn't so hard." Kretok said. He took up his blade, and bloodily hacked off the beasts head. The thing was heavy, easily weighing thirty or thirty five kilos. It was a struggle just to drag the thing, but Kretok made it work. The smell of a fresh kill would fill the air soon, and that meant that all manner of carrion beast would arrive to claim their stake of such a large meal. He definitely didn't want to be around for that, Dromund Kaas' scavengers weren't known for being picky eaters.

The thing was a bloody heap, getting stuck on every root, branch, ledge, rock, and rough patch he came across in his journey back. He was harassed by small animals a number of times, the small scavengers trying to annoy him enough to get him to drop the head so they could get a free and easy meal. He would have killed them, but they were nimble sods who easily managed to evade his blows. As annoying as they were, Kretok was even more stubborn and was not about to let his prize go.

"This sodding thing smells terrible." He grumbled to himself. He'd only made it about five-hundred meters from the kill site (not even an eighth of the way back) and he was already exhausted. He sat down on the beast's gigantic head, letting the sweat roll off his body. He considered just taking back a few of the horns that adorned crest of the beast's head. It would make for a lesser trophy, but easier to bring back. "I can do this." He said. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the horns, and started to pull.

The lump of flesh and bone suddenly felt a thousand times heavier than it had before. Despite his best efforts, he just couldn't pull it another inch.

"Damnit!" He spat. Young Kretok was furious at losing such a promising trophy, but he knew he had to let it go. Quickly, he hacked off the four largest horns and stowed them away in his pack. His whole body felt like it was made out of led as he started to slog his way back to the academy, the weight of exertion and shame. The whole time he grumbled and growled to himself about his rotten luck and the beasts of Dromund Kaas.

The hike back to far longer for him, his legs barely moving no matter what he actually wanted, and it all seemed to be uphill. About a kilometer into the hike back it started to pour, as it often did on the jungle world. The already soft dirt and debris that was the jungle floor quickly turned into a slurry of mud and decaying plant matter. He started to sink up to his ankles, then up to his calves. The rain brought with it with it two reliefs for the Pureblood; first, it helped to dissipate the oppressive heat. Second, it kept the insects at bay.

The next few kilometers were a blur of monochromatic trees, roaring predators, and cracking thunder.

By the time he finally made it back to the glittering silver structure of the academy, he could barely drag himself through the doors. Two overseers stood just inside the entrance, immediately turning their noses up at the beleaguered acolyte.

"What have we got here?" One of the overseers said. "A foolish acolyte who thought to brave the jungle on his own?"

"A foolish acolyte who decide to do us the disservice of not dying out in the jungle." The female overseer's face twisted into a scowl. "And he smells like rotting meat. What are you carrying with you?"

"Test requirement." Was all Kretok said.

"Test requirement?" The male overseer said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"For Apprentice Zash."

"Psh, Zash." The female overseer said dismissively. "The girl gets herself apprenticed to a some mid-level Lord, and suddenly she thinks she's so important." The male overseer started to pace back and forth.

"I get the feeling that there's more to this test then this acolyte is letting on. Perhaps we should simply kill him so no one has to deal with him, and that awful stench, again."

"Are you mad?" The female overseer spat. "Useless acolyte or not, they'll have our heads if we kill him."

"Indeed we will." A soothing, female, voice said. Zash emerged from behind the overseers. "Murdering an acolyte or Sith in the academy is a very serious crime, even for another Sith. I don't think you want to invite the wrath of your betters, or the inquisitors."

"Watch yourself, Zash. The definition of murder can be very loosely interpreted. You might be an apprentice now, but we are overseers of the academy, and still out rank you. Get on our bad side, and we'll kill you where you stand."

"Try to kill me, you mean. The two of you maybe overseers, but let's not forget that the difference between a Lord and an Overseer is aptitude. You failed to live up to the expectations of a Sith Lord, and so are relegated to teaching and guarding this academy. The two of you are little more than glorified doormen." Zash goaded. The two overseers looked like they were about to attack. Zash readied her lightsaber in her right hand, in her left a small ball of lightening crackled. The overseers backed down, grumbled, and left.

"Idiots." Zash said. She turned to Kretok, flashing her charming and disarming smile. "Well now, acolyte, you look like you've had an ordeal."

"Yes, apprentice Zash."

"Do you have anything to show for it?" She asked. Kretok emptied his pack onto the floor. Four large horns, straight and strong, clattered to the floor. Bits of bloody flesh still clung to them. Zash picked one up and examined it.

"Definitely from a jurgoran. Did you take them from a living one?"

"No, apprentice Zash. I killed it first."

"I see. What prompted you to hunt such a clearly massive beast down?"

"You told me to." Kretok said, confused.

"I did? When?"

"After I got out of the infirmary." He answered.

"Truly? I remember telling you to bring back a proof of the kill. Why not simply bring back something from an already dead jurgoran?"

"Because that would have been against the rules?" He asked more then said.

"In what way? You must be more aware of all of your options, Kretok. There's always bound to be more than one solution to a task. It is good that you took the challenge upon yourself to best such a predator, but don't let your head get too big, or else you'll become the prey. If a task seems impossible, or the goal unreachable, you are simply looking at it from the wrong perspective."

"Yes, apprentice Zash."

"You're no doubt famished and worn out from your adventure. Go get something to eat, then get some rest, I expect to see you with the rest of the class tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord." Kretok said. He was tired, but he also felt incredibly good. He'd succeeded in what he'd set out to do, and was back in the running to join the ranks of the Sith. He would keep the four horns with him, a reminder of what he'd accomplished. The Dark Side had thought to test him by leaving him a bruised and bloody lump on the jungle floor, and he'd passed. He walked to the dining hall with his head held high, proud of what he'd accomplished.

_And if I had known then that what I would face just days later, I wouldn't have been so proud of myself. Dealing with the gundark, the yozusk, and the jurgoran would prove to be my easiest tests. Perhaps not physically, but certainly mentally. That day marked the beginning of the real tests, the ones designed to cull the weak from the strong. I couldn't see it then, but the shadow of death had been cast over me. Cast over us all, in fact._

_-Darth Sanguine'ar_

_They actually sent children to hunt beasts that could shred mandalorians apart? No wonder these Sith are so powerful._

_-Lt. Nallek._


End file.
